


Trust

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [6]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Trust, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July 2011, Immediately following the Avengers shoot (moved from April-August to January-June).Tom Hiddleston and his costar, Abigail Morgan are drawn into a very private and torrid affair.</p><p> </p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

A deep breath in my hair.

A whisper of a kiss on my cheek.

A strong, warm body cocooning mine from behind.

A confident, grounding caress from exposed shoulder to bare hip.

A mellow, soothing voice in my ear.

“Hungry?”

My tired eyes flew open at the startling difference of the expectation in comparison to the reality. I thought the tender wakeup call was a promise of something far more intimate than food. The disappointment was acute and startling.

 

An expected splash of cool water to the face.

My ego felt a surge of choking panic.

A flood of humid air that stole the breath from my lungs.

Unexpected and unwanted.

To temper the feeling of dread, I moaned sleepily. “Touch me.”

“Love to, darling, but I’m scandalously peckish.”

The warmth he provided was suddenly gone and I was left with a shadow of it left behind in the sheets. The bed shifted as the weight of him got up, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sat up, cuddling the sheets around me, providing something to cling to. I watched with reserved appreciation as Tom’s nude form walked to his chest of drawers to retrieve clothes.

He slipped into grey boxer-briefs, the ugliest two-sizes too big athletic pants I’d ever seen, and a tight white t-shirt. The cotton hugged his skin and accentuated the toned muscles of his broad chest. I marveled at his physique again as I’d done countless times before.

Feeling more than confused, I slid from between the sheets and laid my bare feet on the cool hardwood floor underneath me. Uncomfortable in my nudity because of the mood in the room, I wrapped my arms around myself. In the heat of passion and absolute impatience, my clothes had been scattered around the room yesterday and I had no idea where they were.

I stood dumbly in place, not knowing exactly what to do. Did he want me to go? Did he intend for me to stay? Feeling insecure and anxiety ridden, I asked, “Did you want me to bugger off then?” My tone rang harsher than I intended and spoke volumes of my inner turmoil.

Mentally I kicked myself for expecting too much. Why did I always do this to myself? I allowed men to use me, hoping to gain their respect and/or affection. The physical act that I’d actually asked for was haunting me. I shouldn’t concede to these things, only to feel shame for doing them.

Tom smiled and furrowed his brow, looking completely proud and confused all at once. Arrogant bastard. “No, you don’t have to leave, Abigail. You want take away?” He went out to the living room to cross to the kitchen to fetch menus. “Pizza or Chinese?”

With him out of the room, I could search out my clothes without feeling self-conscious and exposed. “Either. I’m easy,” I called, instantly regretting my choice of words. I heard him rustling through drawers in the kitchen as stepped into my wrinkled and scattered garments. “Do you need plastic?”

“I’ve got notes to cover.”

The telly in the living room switched on with that tiny spark of electricity and the room filled with inane chatter. When I stepped out of the bedroom, Tom was on his mobile, placing an order for an obscene amount of Chinese food. Was he expecting an army? Awkwardly I claimed a seat on the couch, with my knees pulled up to my chest. I hugged them to me, trying to figure out how I should feel, what I should feel. Why did I want to simultaneously flee and stay put? What was I doing here really?

Tom flopped down in the middle of the couch, grabbed the remote and surfed Sky as though his life depended on it. He appeared so relaxed with his back melting into the back of the sofa and his legs spread miles apart. “Movie?” I looked at him blankly, I didn’t understand what was happening. “While we wait for dinner?” He stabbed the air with the remote, indicating the telly. I nodded dumbly, my emotions rejecting the entire scenario. I should just go.

“We can review the script, if you want,” the man beside me offered, in an attempt to draw me out.

“No. Day off.”

Reading my body language, he asked, “Are you cold? I can fetch a jumper for you.”

I shook my head in the negative. “Not cold.” I stared at the commercial for Sainsbury’s unseeing, lost in my own thoughts.

He kept his eyes on me, trying to figure me out. “Where the hell did you go, Abigail? Where are you now?”

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t answer.

“Hey, Abby,” he pulled me across the cushions. “Come here. Where are you?” He pressed me to his side, wrapping his long arms around me. He nuzzled me neck, placing strategic soft kisses where he knew I loved.

My hairline right behind my ear.

Right below my jawbone.

My strong, steady pulse point.

The curve of my neck and shoulder.

The planet aligned and the tension was lifted. I crawled on his lap, straddling his legs. He looked up at me with his beautiful blue eyes and I was found. I cupped his face with my hands, my lips pressing to his softly. He combed one hand through the tresses of my hair pulling me into the meeting. His other slid from my thigh up and around my waist, anchoring me in place.

I ended the kiss and found his ear. Grovelly, I uttered, “I want you inside me. I crave your touch.”

Tom groaned as I ran my hand from his face all the way down his chest to his crotch. I palmed for a specific reaction, and a specific reaction I got. Tom’s head lulled back against the couch as his length stiffened in my grasp. The next groan vibrated my lips as I kissed the strong column of his neck. “Fuck, Abby, what are you doing to me?”

I bit the fleshy part of his ear before licking the shell. “I believe I’m seducing you.” His cock twitched in my hand at the truth of the statement.

“Abby… ooh, take… a-a-away… coming.” I didn’t stop playing, rubbing, stroking, squeezing, or claiming what I wanted. His pelvis bucked up into me, as a particular ministration became intense.

I licked a blazing line of salivating need from his shoulder up to his ear. “Rather you were.” He groaned and bucked again to my amazement and amusement. His breath rasped out in pant, matching the rhythm of my hand on him.

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and wrenched it from his swollen member. When he looked up at me, his eyes were alight with the fire of arousal, foggy, heavy lidded. He blinked and his focus cleared some, but only a twinge. “Jesus, Abby. What are you on about?”

Coyly, I shrugged, “What you’re…” I glanced down to front of his pants suggestively and licked my lips. “On about.” I tried to regain the use of my hand, but he held it fast like a vice.

Tom breathed in a deeply centering sigh, attempting to regain his composure under the unexpected attention. Fascinated, I watched the cotton of his shirt stretch impossibly across the mile wide plain of his pectorals. Boldly, definitively, he lifted me from his lap and put me in the seat next to him.

“Delivery. The driver, I’m sure, would much prefer a monetary tip to my raging hard-on tip actually.” Embarrassed and rejected again, I got up with an indignant puff. I started to head for his bedroom to collect my things. “Abigail?” I heard him call from behind me. Sighing deeply, he pushed himself to his feet to follow me. “Abigail, what is going on with you?” He reached and grabbed me easily. He pushed me gently into the door of his bedroom to stop me. Trapping me with his body, he forced me to look at him, with my chin pinched between his fingers. “Abby, talk to me.”

“Going back to my flat.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Supper.” On cue, the buzzer sounded and Tom’s stomach growled in protest. “Please stay.”

Dejectedly I claimed a chair at the kitchen table, feeling even more out of place. Tom retrieved the food and brought utensils. Unceremoniously he tore into one of the white boxes and shoved whatever he could in his mouth as he unpacked the rest. I picked at some white rice, thoroughly immersed in the shit in my head than to worry about eating. Dinner was mostly silent and I swear Tom at half the food on his own.

As he cleared and packed the leftovers, I sat like a lemon not knowing what to do. When he returned to the table, he claimed the seat next to me with a sigh. He leaned forward towards me, elbows planted firmly on his wide spread knees. Frankly, he gazed at me for a long moment before he said, “Abby, what the hell is going on with you?”

I glared at him, on the verge of true anger. “What the hell am I doing here?”

His tone took on a bewildered surprise. “Dinner. Do you not want to be here?”

“I don’t know.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Jesus, Abby, please don’t make this difficult for me. Can we skip to where you tell me what I’ve done wrong, I apologize and we get on with our evening?”

“You don’t have to be so arrogant and flippant about it.”

He took my hands and tugged me into his lap, setting me upon his athletic thigh. “Hey, I don’t know what I did. Do you want to clue me in?”

Gently I caressed the side of his face, committing every pore to memory. He leaned into the touch, breaking down my attitude. “I’m-I’ve never been in a situation like this. I thought I was here for sex and you only wanted me here for that. But then you rejected me-”

“Whoa! Let’s clear that up right now. I want you to be here because you want to be here. If you really want me to fuck you in front of the nice Chinese man, I will next time. I want you to be comfortable here, I want you to comfortable with me. Trust in that.”

“Ok, can we go get comfortable now?”

Swatting my ass playfully and growling into my breasts, he appropriately called me, “Minx.”


End file.
